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Charley  Gulhberh 
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Presented    by"T?<svr.  ^fcsA  (lA  ,Grc7\nc>\c7\\\ 

BV  4805  .H35x 

Hall,  Charles  Cuthbert,  18 

-1908. 
The  Christ-Filled  Life 


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JAN   9   1915 


THE 


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7 


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CHRIST-FILLED   LIFE 


CHARLES  CUTHBERT  HALL,  D.D. 


PRESIDENT   OF   UNION   THEOLOGICAL  SEMINARY 


FIFTH  THOUSAND 


NEW  YORK :   46  East  Fourteenth  Street 

THOMAS  Y.  CROWELL  &  COMPANY 

BOSTON:    100  Purchase  Street 


Copyright,  1897, 
By  Thomas  Y.  Crowell  &  Compajty, 


C.  J.  Peters  &  Son,  Typographers,  Boston. 


A.  MUDQE  &  Son,  PBINTEB8. 


TO 


goung  Hibes  lEberstoljere. 


I. 

CHRIST  FOR  THE  INNER  LIFE. 


CHEIST   FOE   THE   INNER   LIFE. 

"The  glory  of  this  mystery,  Christ  in  you." 

Memory  has  been  taking  me  back  to  a  summer  holi- 
day, years  ago,  in  the  pleasant  valleys  of  Nova  Scotia. 
I  recall  the  wonder  and  delight  with  which  I  saw  the 
ocean  tide  come  up  the  Bay  of  Fundy,  and  fill  the  empty 
river-beds.  Through  the  hours  of  the  ebb,  the  Nova 
Scotian  rivers  dwindled  and  shrank  within  their  banks. 
Broad  and  barren  reaches  of  sand  exposed  themselves ; 
ships  listed  heavily  on  their  sides,  deserted  by  the 
feeble  stream  trickling  in  mid-channel.  Then  came 
the  tide  up  the  Bay  of  Fundy,  up  from  the  abundance 
of  the  unfathomable  sea.  You  could  hear  it  coming, 
with  a  distant  sound  of  motion  and  life  and  unmeasured 
power.  You  could  see  it  coming,  with  a  pure  white  gir- 
dle of  foam,  that  looked  in  sunlight  like  a  zone  of  fire. 
You  could  smell  it  coming,  with  the  smell  of  freshness, 
the  breath  of  coolness,  the  waft  of  far-off  scents  from 
breeze-blown  ocean  leagues.  You  could  almost  feel  it 
coming ;  for  the  heart  stirred  at  the  sight  of  it,  and  the 
pulse  quickened  at  the  rush  of  it,  and  the  joy  of  strength 
arose  in  the  soul.  It  came  from  the  mighty  fulness 
that  could  afford  to  give  so  grandly ;  it  came  from  the 
opulence  of  an  ocean  that  could  spend  itself  without 
fear  of  poverty,  that  could  pour  itself  out  to  fill  a  thou- 
sand rivers,  yet  be  not  diminished ;  it  came,  as  Arnold 
said,   with  "murmurs  and  scents  of  the  infinite  sea.'' 

7 


8  THE  CHRIST-FILLED  LIFE. 

It  entered  the  river-bed  ;  it  filled  the  empty  channel  as 
one  fills  a  pitcher  at  the  fountain ;  it  covered  the  barren 
sands  with  motion  and  sparkling  life  ;  it  lifted  the  heavy- 
ships,  gave  back  to  them  their  rights  of  buoyancy,  set 
them  free  upon  the  broad  waterway  of  world-wide  op- 
portunity; it  changed  the  very  face  of  the  land  from 
sadness  and  apathy  and  dulness  to  animation  and  color 
and  glittering  activity.  So  Christ  comes  into  empty 
human  lives,  and  fills  them  with  his  fulness,  which  is 
the  very  fulness  of  God.  So  he  stops  the  ebb  of  power, 
entering  with  his  flood  of  strength.  The  difference  be- 
tween a  life  without  Christ  and  a  life  with  Christ  is  the 
difference  between  ebb  and  flood  ;  the  one  is  growing 
emptier,  the  other  is  growing  fuller.  This  does  not 
require  to  be  argued ;  it  is  proved  by  living.  The  river 
of  which  we  have  spoken,  wherein  the  tide  is  ebbing,  is 
an  almost  painfully  faithful  type  of  the  life  into  which 
Christ  has  not  been  permitted  to  come.  What  do  we 
note  in  that  river  ?  The  narrowing  stream,  the  widen- 
ing stretch  of  barren  sand,  the  helpless  ships.  The  nar- 
rowing stream  is  the  decline  of  the  spiritual  sense  in  a 
life  that  grows  from  childhood  on  to  man's  or  woman's 
maturity,  on,  it  may  be  to  later  years,  without  permit- 
ting Christ  to  enter,  and  to  fill  with  his  fulness,  the 
Inner  Life.  I  believe  that  in  many  children,  perhaps 
in  all  except  those  who  are  born  into  the  most  miserable 
and  unhappy  surroundings  (and  often  even  in  those  so 
born),  there  is  at  first  a  certain  fulness  of  spiritual  pos- 
sibility, which  is  like  a  river  at  high  tide.  I  think  I 
could  define  some  elements  of  that  spiritual  possibility. 
It  comes,  in  part,  from  the  innocency  of  the  child's  mind, 
its  unacquaintance  with  the  facts  and  forms  of  wicked- 
ness, its  ignorance,   its   sacred  ignorance,   of  evil.      It 


CHRIST  FOR    THE  INNER  LIFE.  y 

comes,  in  part,  from  the  sensitiveness  of  the  child's 
faculties,  —  the  eye  not  dim  with  over-use  and  tears, 
the  ear  not  dull  with  the  din  of  the  world-struggle,  the 
heart  not  stoical  through  familiarity  with  suffering,  the 
hand  not  callous  with  uncongenial  toil.  It  comes,  in 
part,  from  the  affectionateness  of  the  child's  tempera- 
ment, —  its  God-given  instinct  to  love,  its  delight  in  gen- 
tle treatment,  its  clinging  confidence  in  those  who  will 
not  repel  its  sweet  advances.  It  comes,  in  part,  from 
the  brooding  of  the  Spirit,  like  a  dove,  upon  the  little 
child.  He  is  there  before  the  mother's  arms  have  held 
the  child,  or  the  father's  lips  have  kissed  it.  He  is 
there  to  bless  the  dawning  of  its  consciousness,  we  know 
not  how,  with  some  mysterious  capacity  to  turn  toward 
God.  He  is  there  to  make  it  easy  for  those  little  hands 
to  fold  themselves  in  prayer ;  easy  for  those  pure  and 
guileless  lips  to  pronounce  the  mystic  name  of  Jesus. 
And  the  child's  life,  in  that  first  stage  of  its  career  upon 
the  earth,  is  wondrously  full  of  spiritual  possibility.  In 
that  early  morning  hour  the  tide  is  very  high  in  the 
river  of  its  life.  The  glorious  fulness  of  possibility 
makes  a  young  child's  life  brimming  with  the  potency  of 
God.  But  how  soon  the  ebb  comes,  if  Christ  be  not 
invited  to  enter  the  young  life.  How  soon  the  stream 
in  that  life  channel  begins  to  narrow  and  dwindle  and 
drain  away  in  the  decline  of  the  spiritual  sense,  as  the 
child  becomes  a  youth,  the  youth  a  man  or  a  woman, 
going  on  without  Christ.  Less  and  less  sensitiveness  to 
the  spiritual  appeal,  less  and  less  repugnance  to  the 
thought  of  iniquity,  less  and  less  affinity  with  the 
unseen  and  the  divine.  It  is  an  ebb-tide  that  we  have 
seen  many  times  with  unspeakable  regret. 

And  in  that  river,  as  the  tide  goes  out,  we  note  the 


10  THE  CHRIST-FILLED  LIFE. 

widening  stretch  of  barren  sand.  As  the  beautiful 
stream  narrows,  the  barren  and  unsightly  bottom  forces 
itself  upon  us.  The  sand,  the  weed,  the  slime,  the 
sunken  wreckage,  come  to  light.  It  is  the  disillusion- 
izing of  life  by  natural  process  of  time,  unless  the  fulness 
of  Christ  be  pouring  in  to  cover  and  to  bury  that  which 
has  been  laid  bare.  A  young,  fresh  heart  is  full  of  a 
sense  of  the  glory  of  living.  To  such  a  heart  it  is  great 
and  beautiful  to  be  alive.  The  present,  the  future,  wear 
a  dignity  to  which  the  heart  answers  with  enthusiasm 
and  with  hope.  But  how  often  have  I  seen  this  disap- 
pear with  the  ebb  of  the  spiritual  sense,  and  the  dark, 
unprofitable  depths  of  baser  things  laid  bare  as  the 
belief  in  God's  presence  receded  from  the  soul.  Life 
was  robbed  of  its  holy  idealism ;  the  sacredness  of  liv- 
ing ebbed  away,  and  in  its  place  arose  and  spread  abroad 
a  sullen  waste  of  un spiritual  thinking ;  a  sunken  depth 
of  unhallowed  living ;  a  life  becoming,  every  day  of  its 
continuance  without  Christ,  more  hard,  more  barren, 
more  unpromising.  Nothing  is  to  me  more  saddening 
than  this  when  I  see  it  exposing  its  presence  and  its 
development  in  the  life  of  youth.  It  is  one  of  the  first 
unhappy  changes  in  personal  history  to  record  itself 
outwardly  in  the  altered  expression  of  countenance. 
Do  I  need  to  ask  if  the  tide  is  going  down  when  I  look 
at  the  estuary,  and  see  the  buoys  all  heading  down 
channel,  and  the  sand-bars  drying  in  yellow  barrenness  ? 
Do  I  need  to  ask  if  the  early  sense  of  spirituality  is 
ebbing  away  for  lack  of  the  inrush  of  the  sanctifying 
power  of  Christ  when  I  see  that  strange  and  unmista- 
kable secularizing  of  countenance  growing  on  one  who, 
refusing  to  let  Christ  enter  and  fill  the  Inner  Life,  is 
becoming  used  to  the  hard,  muddy  facts  of  sin. 


CHRIST  FOR    THE  INNER  LIFE.  11 

And  once  again,  in  that  river,  as  the  tide  goes  ont, 
we  note  the  helpless  ships ;  things  that  were  made 
for  the  elements  now  receding  from  them ;  creations  of 
strength  and  beauty  when  permitted  to  move  in  their 
own  environment,  to  float  like  sea-fowl  on  the  breast 
of  the  brimming  river.  But  now  that  the  tide  is 
gone,  what  more  useless,  what  more  unsightly,  than  the 
stranded  ship  ?  It  can  serve  no  purpose,  it  can  fulfil 
no  destiny,  save  to  lie  in  the  midst  of  barrenness  and 
wreckage,  and  to  moulder  to  destruction,  but  for  that 
great  inrush  of  the  coming  tide,  to  fill  the  river,  to  lift 
the  helpless  boat.  So  do  our  spiritual  powers,  the  gifts 
and  endowments  for  service,  fall  into  disuse  and  help- 
less inability,  as  the  spiritual  sense  ebbs  with  time,  and 
Christ  is  not  admitted  to  fill  the  Inner  Life,  and  to  lift 
upon  the  tide  of  his  grace  the  powers  that  are  failing 
through  neglect.  The  youth  enters  his  career  with 
strong  possibilities  of  spiritual  usefulness  lying  unde- 
veloped and  unexpressed  within  his  life,  like  ships 
moored  within  the  harbor,  waiting  to  be  sent  forth. 
Who  that  lives  much  with  the  young  can  fail  to  be 
impressed  by  the  splendid  possibilities  for  Christian  ser- 
vice moored  with  furled  sails  within  the  undeveloped 
life.  That  boy,  with  his  ardent  spiritual  nature,  may  be 
almost  anything.  He  is  full  of  possibilities.  He  has 
in  him  the  making  of  a  great  preacher,  or  of  a  great 
teacher,  or  of  a  strong,  compelling  force  as  a  Christian 
layman.  That  girl,  with  her  rich,  devout  personality, 
may  be  a  glorious  light  in  the  world,  holding  forth  in 
many  a  circle  of  influence  the  bright  example  of  fearless 
Christian  womanhood.  How  keenly  we  feel  the  pres- 
ence of  these  spiritual  possibilities  in  young  lives  ;  these 
unfulfilled  prophecies  of  power.     But  their  fulfilment 


12  THE  CHRIST-FILLED  LIFE. 

depends  on  Christ  coming  in  like  the  strong  sea-tide  to 
fill  those  lives  with  himself.  Without  him  they  can  do 
nothing.  Without  him  the  early  spiritual  impulse  will 
ebb  away,  and  these  great  possibilities  will  remain  like 
the  ships  when  the  water  is  gone,  listed  in  utter  help- 
lessness and  inefficiency  upon  the  barren  sand. 

Let  me  now  turn  from  this  study  of  life  from  which 
Christ  is  excluded,  and  speak  of  the  coming  in  of  this 
mighty  Christ  power,  like  the  full,  fresh  tide  from  the 
unbounded  sea  into  the  empty  river  channel.  Let  me, 
if  I  may,  suggest  to  you  thoughts  of  its  wealth  of  power, 
its  abundant  life,  its  resistless  energy;  the  gift  of  the 
sea  to  the  river,  of  the  infinite  to  the  finite,  of  the  Spirit 
of  God  to  the  spirit  of  man.  Think  of  that  ocean  tide 
to-day,  setting  up  against  all  the  coasts  of  the  world, 
filling  a  thousand  rivers  to  the  brim,  yet  losing  none  of 
its  own  unfathomable  fulness.  Think  how  Christ  may 
be  entering  to-day  the  empty  channels  of  a  thousand 
lives,  giving  to  each  of  them  the  fulness  of  his  Spirit, 
pouring  into  each  of  them  the  abundance  of  his  strength, 
lifting  the  stranded  purposes  in  each  of  them  up  from 
sunken  neglect  into  useful  and  joyous  liberty ;  yet,  for 
all  that  lavish  self-giving,  he  himself  an  undiminished 
ocean  of  grace  and  truth,  because  in  himself  the  very 
fulness  of  God.  Well  did  the  apostle  say,  "  The  glory 
of  this  mystery  —  Christ  in  you."  It  is  a  mystery,  the 
most  glorious  and  exalting  of  all  mysteries,  this  coming 
of  Christ  with  power  into  our  inmost  life.  Whether  we 
view  it  in  the  divine  giving,  or  in  the  human  receiving, 
we  can  only  say,  "  The  glory  of  this  mystery  —  Christ 
in  you." 

View  it  first  on  the  divine  side,  —  the  gift  of  the 
ocean  to  the  river,  the  gift  of  the  infinite  to  the  finite. 


CHRIST  FOB    THE  INNEB  LIFE.  13 

the  gift  of  the  Spirit  of  God  to  the  spirit  of  man,  —  and 
see  the  glory  of  the  mystery. 

What  mysterious  glory  in  the  thought  that  God  will 
give  himself  to  man,  will  enter  man's  life,  and  fill  all  its 
channels  with  power  and  grace,  even  after  sin  and  self- 
neglect  and  the  wasting  of  opportunity  have  drained  life 
of  so  much  of  its  own  power.  Yet  God  would  be  to 
each  of  us  as  the  ocean  to  the  river.  He  would  fill  us 
with  himself.  It  is  only  the  bar  we  throw  across  the 
mouths  of  our  life,  closing  the  channel  against  him,  pre- 
vents the  fulness  of  his  life  from  entering  into  us.  It 
is  his  will  to  dwell  in  us.  "Ye  are,^'  says  his  Word, 
"  the  temple  of  the  living  God ;  as  God  hath  said,  I  will 
dwell  in  them,  and  walk  in  them." 

What  mysterious  glory  in  the  thought  that  this  pur- 
pose of  God  to  dwell  in  us  is  revealed  in  Christ;  that 
Christ,  whom  we  can  understand,  whom  we  can  call  our 
Brother,  whom  we  can  love  as  our  Friend,  is  this  great 
ocean-fulness  of  God  that  enters  our  life.  "In  him," 
says  St.  Paul,  in  words  never  to  be  forgotten,  "  dwelleth 
all  the  fulness  of  the  Godhead  bodily,  and  in  him  ye  are 
made  full."  It  is  sometimes  asked :  Why  make  so  much 
of  Christ  ?  Why  look  upon  Christ  as  the  medium  of  the 
divine  self-giving  ?  Why  not  leave  Christ  out,  and  speak 
only  of  the  Father  ?  The  only  answer  we  can  make  is  in 
the  faithful  word  of  Scripture  itself :  "  It  was  the  good 
pleasure  of  the  Father  that  in  him  should  all  the  fulness 
dwell ;  that  in  all  things  he  might  have  the  pre-eminence, 
and  through  him  to  reconcile  all  things  unto  himself." 
We  may  not  be  able  to  explain  this  mystery  of  Christ  in 
us ;  but  we  know  that  when  Christ  is  in  us,  we  have  re- 
ceived the  gift  of  the  ocean  to  the  river,  the  full  tide  of 
the  more  abundant  life.     It  is  when  no  bar  rises  before 


14  THE  CHRIST-FILLED  LIFE. 

the  mouth  of  our  life  to  keep  Christ  out,  there  comes 
to  us  the  answer  of  that  great  apostolic  prayer :  "  That 
ye  may  be  strengthened  with  power  through  his  Spirit 
in  the  inward  man ;  that  Christ  may  dwell  in  your 
hearts  through  faith;  to  the  end  that  ye,  being  rooted 
and  grounded  in  love,  may  be  strong  to  apprehend  with 
all  saints  what  is  the  breadth,  and  length,  and  height, 
and  depth ;  and  to  know  the  love  of  Christ,  which  pass- 
eth  knowledge,  that  ye  may  be  filled  unto  all  the  fulness 
of  God." 

And  once  more,  looking  at  this  truth  on  the  divine 
side,  what  mysterious  glory  of  honor  and  of  responsibil- 
ity in  the  thought  that  this  revelation  of  Christ  for  the 
Inner  Life  has  been  reserved  for  us  who  live  in  this 
latest  and  brightest  dispensation  of  the  divine  truth. 
There  were  other  and  earlier  dispensations,  wherein 
men  walked  in  light  more  dim,  and  were  dealt  with  in 
ways  less  exalting  to  the  spiritual  sense.  But  in  his 
mercy,  God  hath  provided  some  better  thing  for  us, 
this  great  revelation  of  the  Spirit,  this  great  gift  of  the 
ocean  to  the  river,  —  Christ  for  the  Inner  Life :  "  the 
mystery  which  hath  been  hid  from  all  ages  and  gene- 
rations ;  but  now  hath  it  been  manifested  to  his  saints, 
to  whom  God  was  pleased  to  make  known  what  is  the 
riches  of  the  glory  of  this  mystery,  which  is  Christ  in 
you,  the  hope  of  glory."  How  can  any  one  shut  Christ 
out  of  the  Inner  Life  when  he  reflects  that  this  Christ 
power,  to  which  entrance  is  denied,  is  the  gift  for  which 
generations  of  old  were  looking  and  longing,  and  died 
without  the  sight ! 

Finally,  let  me  speak  from  the  human  side  of  the  glory 
of  this  mystery,  of  Christ  for  the  Inner  Life.  Go  to  the 
river  when  the  tide  is  out,  when  the  flats  are  bare,  when 


CHRIST  FOB    THE  INNER  LIFE.  15 

the  boats  lie  careened  and  helpless.  Go  to  it  again 
when  the  tide  is  in,  when  the  shallows  are  depths,  and 
the  bars  are  sparkling  waterways,  and  the  ships  are 
slipping  their  cables  and  bending  their  sails.  You  have 
seen  a  great  change.  But  you  have  seen  a  greater  change 
than  this,  if  you  ever  saw  a  life  when  it  had  lived  with- 
out Christ  until  the  early  spiritual  sensitiveness  had 
ebbed  away,  and  the  bare  materialism  of  the  lower 
nature  had  come  to  view  through  prayerless,  Christ- 
less  years,  and  the  powers  for  service  had  fallen  into 
disuse,  and  the  channels  of  expression  were  emptied 
of  God,  and  you  had  mourned  over  the  life  as  a  life 
that  was  running  dry.  And  then  you  saAV  that  life 
again,  in  the  mystery  of  the  glory  of  Christ  within  it. 
The  bar  that  blocked  so  long  the  entrance  to  that  life 
was  torn  away  by  the  ocean's  importunity  —  the  ful- 
ness of  Christ  had  come  in,  bringing  the  infiniteness  of 
God  to  fill  the  emptiness  of  self.  Are  there  any  words 
in  the  language  of  man  that  can  do  full  justice  to  that 
coming  in  of  the  tide  in  its  effects  upon  the  life  it 
enters  ?  So  mysterious  and  so  glorious.  Restoration, 
Honor,  Poiver. 

The  glory  of  this  mystery  of  Christ  in  us  is  Eestora- 
tion!  The  river-channel  was  made  to  hold  the  fulness 
of  the  sea.  The  spirit  of  man  was  made  to  receive  the 
Spirit  of  God.  If  any  man  have  not  the  Spirit  of  Christ, 
he  is  none  of  his.  The  river-bed  without  the  ocean  is 
not  its  true  self.  The  human  spirit  without  the  indwell- 
ing Christ  is  but  a  river-bed  without  water.  A  man,  a 
woman,  a  girl,  a  boy,  who  lacks  this  glorious  mystery  of 
Christ  within,  is  a  defective  and  an  unfinished  life.  It 
may  be  strong  at  many  other  points,  and  beautiful  in 
many  other  ways ;  but  lacking  the  presence  and  power 


16  THE  CHRIST-FILLED  LIFE. 

of  Christ  in  the  Inner  Life,  it  is  weakest  where  it  should 
be  strongest,  and  barren  where  it  should  be  most  truly- 
beautiful.  The  life  that  is  without  the  indwelling  Christ 
is  more  maimed  than  if  it  had  lost  an  eye,  more  sorrow- 
fully deprived  than  if  the  ear  were  dull  as  stone.  For 
we  are  not  only  made  b^j  God,  we  are  made  for  God ; 
that  he  may  dwell  in  us ;  and  we  are  not  what  in  his 
mind  we  are  meant  to  be,  till  we  have  received  his  ful- 
ness, and  know  for  ourselves  the  mystery  of  the  glory 
of  spiritual  life.  Eegeneration  is  then  Restoration.  It 
is  indeed  new  birth;  but  the  new  birth  is  the  creation 
anew  within  us  of  that  primal,  normal  life  which  died 
within  the  race  when  sin  entered  into  the  world,  and 
death  through  sin. 

The  glory  of  this  mystery  of  Christ  in  us  is  Honor. 
An  unconquerable  grace  and  dignity  invest  the  person  of 
Christ.  Christ  is  majestic.  And  when  he  comes  within 
us,  all  our  life  is  honored  and  ennobled  through  his  pres- 
ence. At  his  coming  the  flat  and  barren  materialism  of 
our  unspiritual  thinking  is  covered  and  buried  beneath 
the  clear,  deep  waters  of  earnestness  and  grandeur  of 
purpose,  and  love  and  prayer,  which  come  with  him. 
Every  life  he  is  truly  permitted  to  enter  becomes  in 
him  a  grander  life.  He  seems  to  sweep  pettiness  and 
meanness  of  thought  out  of  sight.  He  seems  to  swallow 
up  in  his  troad  fulness  the  failing  streams  of  our  moral 
life  that  were  growing  shallow  and  turbid.  Christ  is 
great  and  clear  and  beautiful  and  noble ;  and  if  he  fills 
us  in  our  inmost  life,  then  —  wondrous  and  impossible 
thoagh  it  may  seem  —  we  receive  of  his  fulness,  and  as 
he  is,  so  are  we  in  this  world.  Yet  why  should  we  call 
this  wondrous  and  impossible  ?  We  have  had  friends 
who  ennobled  us  by  their  nobleness.     We  could  not  re- 


CHRIST  FOR   THE  INNER  LIFE.  17 

sist  them,  but  became  beautified  in  spirit  by  their  beauty 
seeking  our  inmost  life. 

"The  tidal  wave  of  deeper  souls 
Into  our  inmost  being  rolls, 
And  lifts  us  unawares 
Out  of  all  meaner  cares." 

Must  not  Christ  do  more  even  than  this  when  he  enters 
our  inmost  being  ?  Is  not  he  that  deepest  soul,  the  Sotil 
of  God,  who  must  lift  us  to  the  level  of  God's  life  ? 

And  then,  Power.  The  glory  of  this  mystery  of  Christ 
in  us  is  Power.  No  longer  the  ship  lies  listed  in  help- 
lessness. The  life  of  the  sea  brings  back  opportunity, 
restores  power.  No  longer  a  wasting,  helpless  life  lying 
hard  and  fast  in  sin.  In  the  name  of  Jesus  Christ,  arise  ! 
He  lifteth  thee,  by  the  element  of  his  own  life,  into  op- 
portunity and  into  power !  Wilt  thou,  then,  unbar  thy 
life,  my  friend,  and  let  him  in  —  the  Christ  for  thy  in- 
most life  —  the  ocean  for  the  river-bed  ? 


II. 

POWERS  OF  THE  CHRIST-FILLED  LIFE. 


THE   POWERS  OF  THE    CHEIST-FILLED  LIFE. 

"I  can  do  all  things  in  him  that  strengtheneth  me." 

We  have  thought  of  Christ  for  the  Inner  Life.  ^^  The 
glory  of  this  mystery  —  Christ  in  you."  Let  us  now 
carry  that  great  thought  to  one  of  its  many  conclusions 
by  considering  ''  The  Poicers  of  the  Christ-filled  Life,^^ 
the  enlarged  resources,  the  multiplied  abilities,  of  one 
into  whose  Inner  Life  the  fulness  of  Christ  has  come  as 
the  ocean-tide  into  the  river-bed.  "  I  can  do  all  things 
in  him  that  strengtheneth  me."  Those  who  read  the 
Greek,  and  who  will  read  this  verse  in  the  Greek,  will 
instantly  perceive  the  incomparable  force  and  buoyancy 
of  the  language  employed  therein.  '^  I  am  strong  for  all 
things  in  him  that  infuses  strength  into  me."  By  nature 
we  human  beings  are  ambitious  and  aggressive  creatures. 
We  like  not  only  to  be,  but  to  do.  W^e  aspire  not  only  to 
exist,  but  to  accomplish.  Periods  there  are,  no  doubt,  of 
high  satisfaction  with  our  surroundings,  of  delicious  con- 
tent in  our  environment,  when  the  luxury  and  opulence 
of  mere  existence  are  more  enviable  than  exertion ;  hours, 
or  even  days,  of  delight,  when  one  is  satisfied  to  bask 
in  sunshine  ;  days  perfect  in  their  ways,  whereon  one 

says : — 

"It  is  enough  for  me 
Not  to  he  doing,  hut  to  he." 

But  such  seasons  are  interludes  in  the  great  symphonic 
poem  of  life ;  they  are  not  its  main  theme.     Invariably 

21 


22  THE  CHRIST-FILLED  LIFE. 

the  healthy  spirit  reverts  from  the  delicious  interlude 
of  rest  in  mere  existence  to  the  heroic  theme  of  action 
and  accomplishment.  This  is  our  nature ;  this  is  our 
heredity  from  God.  *^  My  Father  worketh  hitherto,  and 
/  work,"  said  Christ.  It  is  godlike  to  do  ;  to  work ;  to 
accomplish  ;  to  express  power  by  results. 

Therefore,  considering  us  as  mere  human  beings,  obe- 
dient to  inherited  instincts,  possibly  the  saddest  word 
in  human  speech  is  "  I  cannot, ^^  and  possibly  the  most 
joyous  word  in  human  speech  is  "  /  can  !  "  "  I  cannot " 
—  the  sense  of  impotence,  the  doom  of  inability,  the 
sub-consciousness  of  deficient  power  ;  what  is  there  more 
bitter  in  the  mixture  of  the  cup  of  human  sorrow  ?  / 
cannot!  It  comes  to  the  paralyzed,  as  only  they  can 
understand  who  have  been  stricken  down  in  the  fulness 
of  an  active  life.  The  strong,  obedient  right  hand,  that 
never  disobeyed  one's  will,  that  wrote  one's  thoughts  into 
letters  and  books,  or  painted  them  into  color  and  shape 
upon  the  glowing  canvas,  or  played  them  into  sacred  and 
celestial  harmonies  upon  the  organ  manual,  lies  on  the 
bed  beside  one,  senseless  and  shrunken,  like  a  withered 
branch.  I  cannot  !  It  comes  to  the  blind.  Never  again 
another  sunset  lacing  the  burnished  west  with  "  nebulous 
bars ; "  never  again  the  glint  of  a  sail  at  sea,  nor  the 
swing  of  a  cloud  at  midsummer  noon ;  never  the  spread 
of  an  eagle's  wing,  nor  the  billows  of  breeze  across  up- 
land wheat ;  never  the  sight  of  stars ;  never  the  page  of 
a  book,  nor  the  pictured  form ;  never  the  face  of  friend, 
nor  the  gleam  of  love  from  answering  eyes.  The  power 
for  these  all  gone.  I  cannot !  It  comes  to  them  that 
are  growing  old,  in  whose  hearts,  be  it  never  forgotten, 
may  still  be  burning  some  of  the  fires  of  youth.  In 
many  an  aging  life,  old  as  to  power  whilst  still  young 


POWERS   OF  THE  CHRIST-FILLED  LIFE.        23 

as  to  will,  the  sting  of  the  ^^  I  cannot "  is  this  :  "  Would 
God  I  could."  /  cannot !  It  comes  to  many  an  intel- 
lectual mind  fettered  by  poverty,  or  by  imperious  re- 
straints of  duty,  from  fulfilling  its  broad  and  pure 
ambitions.  A  lover  of  books,  yet  by  the  irony  of  some 
distressful  occupation  kept  away  from  them ;  a  dreamer 
of  foreign  travel,  and  of  the  wideness  of  the  world,  yet 
fenced  by  the  wall  of  poverty  within  a  small  and  prosaic 
routine;  a  lover  of  public  work,  of  broad  missions  to 
souls,  yet  chained  by  what  is  felt  as  duty  to  the  dun- 
geon of  a  buried  life.  I  cannot !  It  comes  to  the  heart 
of  man  or  woman  swayed  by  an  impossible  love,  knowing 
what  might  have  been  yet  may  not  be,  or  what  might  be 
yet  cannot  be,  or  what  ought  to  be  yet  is  not. 

So  also,  on  the  other  hand,  perhaps  no  thought  is 
more  richly  freighted  with  the  joys  and  hopes  of  human 
lives  than  that  which  is  expressed  in  the  clear,  strong 
words,  "  I  canP  It  is  the  sense  of  potency,  the  power  to 
do,  the  inspiration  of  congenial  opportunity.  lean! 
The  child  feels  it  without  defining  it,  and  utters  it  in 
songs  without  words.  It  is  the  bliss  of  vitality,  the 
buoyancy  of  an  abounding  life.  The  youth  in  the  sum- 
mer meadow,  "walking  and  leaping  and  praising  God," 
with  laughing  eye  and  tossing  curls  and  dauntless  step, 
wears,  as  a  very  coronet  of  light  upon  his  brow,  that 
glad  /  can.  The  thoughtful  mind  of  riper  years  feels  at 
times,  with  all  but  overmastering  strength,  that  inesti- 
mable sense  of  potency;  that  one  has  eyes  to  see,  and  ears 
to  hear,  and  hands  to  do  one's  bidding,  and  the  full  equip- 
ment of  all  the  attributes  of  personality,  and  the  mystic 
gift  of  health,  whereby  one  touches  life's  great  possibili- 
ties, and  says,  in  the  reverential  whisper  of  an  unspeak- 
able thankfulness,  /  can  !     It  comes  to  one  in  the  sense 


24  THE  CHRIST-FILLED  LIFE. 

of  education  ;  that  one  is  in  the  precincts  of  the  world's 
intellectual  life,  and  not  on  the  wastes  of  ignorance  out- 
side ;  that  one  is  not  ruled  out  by  illiteracy  from  taking 
part  in  the  movements  of  thought,  nor  ostracized  by 
cloddish  dulness  from  the  fellowship  of  such  as  care  for 
more  in  life  than  its  material  uses.  Education  is  po- 
tency, and  creates  out  of  nothing  for  every  one  of  us  a 
world  barred  against  ignorance  —  a  world  before  whose 
open  gate  the  scholar  stands,  as  a  son  before  his  birth- 
right, feeling,  with  thoughts  too  great  for  words,  that 
vast  /  can.  It  comes  to  one  with  the  the  broad  un- 
foldings  of  life's  pure  affections.  Love  in  an  open  door, 
leading  out  even  unto  God.  "  He  that  loveth  not  know- 
est  not  God ;  for  God  is  love."  Affection  is  power. 
Pure  affection  is  power  for  good.  To  love  reverently, 
and  to  be  so  loved,  enriches  the  resources  of  personality, 
makes  one  worthier  to  live,  and  reveals  to  one's  soul  new 
possibilities  in  that  word  /  can  ! 

But  when  we  have  spoken  of  health  and  reason  and 
education  and  love,  we  have  not  risen  above  the  level  of 
the  natural  life.  Great  as  these  things  are,  considered 
as  elements  of  that  sense  of  potency  which  makes  life 
worth  living,  there  is  a  greater  thing  than  these  within 
the  reach  of  every  one  of  us.  A  greater  thing,  not  only 
in  its  intrinsic  height  and  depth  and  length  and  breadth, 
but  also  in  its  power  to  keep  lives  strong  with  a 
mighty  strength,  even  when  health  is  broken,  or  love  has 
met  with  cruel  disappointment.  That  royal  sense  of 
physical  potency  which  we  call  '^  perfect  health "  may 
be  impaired  by  the  strain  of  toil,  or  by  the  inroads  of 
sickness.  That  sweet  self-assurance  of  a  confident  affec- 
tion may  receive  the  shock  from  which  it  never  wholly 
recovers.      But  there  is  a   strength  unconquerable  by 


POWERS   OF  THE  CHRIST-FILLED  LIFE.        2d 

these  adverse  conditions  ;  there  is  a  sense  of  potency 
whose  basis  is  spiritual,  not  earthly ;  there  is  a  grand 
and  glad  /  cati  sounding  on  above  the  plaintive  under- 
tone of  many  a  sad  /  cannot ;  there  are  powers  which 
the  world  can  neither  give  nor  take  away.  They  are  the 
powers  of  the  Christ-filled  life.  "  I  can  do  all  things  in 
him  that  strengtheneth  me." 

It  is  not  for  me  to  presume  that  I  can  name,  or  that 
I  am  competent  to  know,  all  the  powers  of  the  Christ- 
filled  life  which  may  have  been  exhibited  by  those  who 
shall  read  these  words.  But  it  may  perhaps  be  mine, 
because  of  the  deep  reverence  wherewith  I  have  studied 
lives,  as  one  studies  the  most  precious  books,  to  have 
learned  some  few  of  the  "  all  things  "  which  the  Christ- 
filled  life  can  do,  when  day  by  day,  from  the  vast  ocean 
of  God's  life,  the  ever-fresh  fulness  of  the  eternal  tide 
of  strengthening  is'pouring  into  the  river-bed  of  the  soul. 
I  have  seen  the  powers  of  the  Christ-filled  life  express 
themselves  on  two  great  lines  of  energy, — as  opposing  and 
vanquishing  evil,  as  grasping  and  using  good.  And  so, 
in  the  all  things  which  one  can  do  in  him  that  strength- 
eneth, in  the  heroic  boundlessness,  the  approximate  om- 
nipotence of  the  truly  Christ-filled  life,  there  are,  one  may 
say,  powers  of  resistance,  and  there  are  powers  of  attain- 
ment. 

'^I  can  do  all  things  in  him  that  strengtheneth  me.^' 
Xo  empty  boast  was  this  for  many  a  Christ-filled  life 
that  met  the  evil  of  this  world,  to  resist  it,  and  to  rise 
above  it  in  a  strength  not  its  own.  The  memory  of 
many  must  join  with  my  own  to  supply,  even  from  the 
lives  that  we  have  known,  examples  of  powers  of  resist- 
ance against  oppressive  and  discouraging  conditions, 
which  were  evidently  the  powers  of  Christ-filled  lives. 


26  THi:  CHRIST-FILLED  LIFE. 

Let  me  speak  of  those  powers  of  resistance  as  they 
wrought  victoriously,  in  one  and  in  another,  against 
physical  pain  and  ill-health,  against  the  tyranny  of  pas- 
sion, against  the  unspiritual  drag  of  life. 

"  I  can  do  all  things  in  him."  Thus  has  the  spiritual 
force  and  buoyancy  of  many  a  Christ-filled  life  risen 
above,  and  lived  for  blessed  years  beyond,  the  break  of 
health,  and  the  disheartening  doom  of  bodily  pain.  Thus 
has  the  tide  of  God's  strong  life  borne  the  highest 
gifts  of  personality  up  for  brave  expression,  long  after 
the  powers  of  the  flesh  were  strained  and  wrecked  on 
the  barren  sands  of  invalidism.  How  shall  we  describe 
this  wondrous  resistance  of  the  physical  doom,  as  we 
have  seen  it  accomplished  in  some  seraphic  personalities 
whose  very  names  bring  tears  of  thankfulness  as  we 
remember  them  serenely  living  above  their  sufferings  ? 
It  was  not  stoicism:  the  fierce  contempt, for  pain,  the 
grim  resolution  of  an  iron  will.  This  was  not  their 
secret.  For  many  of  them  were  frail  and  sensitive  be- 
ings, to  whom  pain  was  terrible,  and  who  could  no  more 
be  physically  indifferent  to  pain  than  is  the  aspen  leaf 
to  the  east  wind.  It  was  this  !  —  a  Christ-filled  life  rising 
above  its  physical  sufferings,  and  out  of  weakness  made 
strong  for  service,  as  if  borne  forward  on  the  very  tide 
of  God's  strength.  I  have  seen  the  Christ-filled  spirit 
conquer  the  lassitude  of  an  enfeebled  body,  and  prolong 
heroic  usefulness  through  years  of  hourly  victory  over 
the  dull  insistance  of  organic  pain.  I  have  seen  the 
wheeled  chair  of  the  invalid  become  a  throne  of  godlike 
influence,  and  even  the  pillow  of  the  bedridden  a  focus 
of  light  within  the  house,  and  a  distributing  centre  of 
power  to  many  lives.  It  is  a  great,  great  thought  for 
those  who  must  run  in  life  so  many  risks  of  the  body, 


POWERS  OF  THE  CHRIST-FILLED  LIFE.       27 

that,  for  a  Christ-filled  life,  all  has  not  gone  when  health 
is  gone ;  and  the  sadness  of  the  physical  "  /  cannot " 
may  often  be  swallowed  np  through  long  and  fruitful 
years  in  the  greater  joy  of  the  spiritual  "/ca?^." 

^^I  can  do  all  things  in  him.''  Thus  has  the  spirit- 
ual force  of  many  a  Christ-filled  life  risen  above  the 
tyranny  of  passion,  even  of  passion  strengthened  sev- 
enfold through  habitual  indulgence.  There  is  noth- 
ing nearer  to  omnipotence  given  unto  man  than  that 
strange  gladness  of  the  Christ-filled  life,  when,  coming 
up  to  old  temptations  against  which,  in  the  former  days, 
there  would  have  been  a  brief  resistance  of  the  will  fol- 
lowed by  collapse  under  stress  of  inclination,  it  finds 
within  a  new  power,  not  its  own,  which  lifts  it  to 
where  that  former  deed  seems  separated  from,  and  far 
beneath,  one's  present  life,  and  the  thraldom  of  the  old 
self-indulgent  ^'  I  \jan "  is  supplanted  by  a  magnificent 
incapahllity  of  doing  the  old  deed.  Far  off  from  ear- 
liest history  sounds  with  immortal  sweetness  that  fresh 
young  voice,  expressing  the  grand  incapability  for  gross 
sinning  that  comes  to  the  life  which  God  has  filled. 
"  How  can  I  do  this  wickedness,  and  sin  against  God  ?  " 
And  from  the  richest  part  of  the  New  Testament  is 
brought  to  us  the  same  great  thought,  that  a  Christ- 
filled  life  becomes  incapable  of  certain  sins.  "Who- 
soever is  born  of  God  doth  not  commit  sin ;  he  cannot 
sin,  because  he  is  born  of  God."  He  can,  and  he 
cannot.  He  can,  in  that  the  tyrannous  effort  of  pas- 
sion to  subdue  him  is  quite  the  same,  and  the  pre- 
dispositions of  nature  are  unchanged.  But  he  cannot, 
because  the  fulness  of  God's  life  has  come  to  him,  the 
ocean  has  filled  the  river-bed,  and  lifted  the  levels  of 
thought  and  of  action  above  low-water  marks  of  old  and 
shallow  days. 


28  THE  CHRIST-FILLED  LIFE. 

"  I  can  do  all  things  in  liim."     Thus  has  the  spiritual 
force  and  buoyancy  of  many  a  Christ-filled  life  resisted 
the  unspiritual  drag  of  living.     I  know  no  truer  term 
for  that  preponderance  of  dulness  than  the  unspiritual 
draff.     When  one  considers  the  shortness  of  life,  the  in- 
voluntary instinct  that  clings  to   life,   and   the  many 
broad  reasons  that  can  be  assigned  for  living,  it  is  a 
striking  contradiction,  and  the   strongest  a  j^i'iori  evi- 
dence of  miscalculation  somewhere,  that  life  should,  to 
a  human  being,  become  uninteresting  and  unwelcome; 
that   the   enthusiastic   freshness    of    interest   in  living 
should,  for   so  many  persons,  seem  to  abate;   and  for 
so  many  the  years  draw  nigh  when  they  say,  whether 
truthfully   or   untruthfully,    "I    have    no    pleasure    in 
them."     Three  causes  seem  to  lie  back  of  this  drac/  of 
life,  —  sin,  routine,  or  melancholy.     For  some,  sin,  the 
past  excesses  of  conduct,  may  explani,  so  to   say,  the 
loss  of  appetite  for  living.     They  have  sinned  against 
themselves;   they  have  maltreated   the  finer  parts   of 
being,  which  cannot,  in  consequence,  produce  the  enthu- 
siasms   inherent   in   an   unprofaned   personality.      For 
others,  routine  turns   life  into  a  drag.      The  doing  of 
the   same  thing  every  day  becomes  intolerable.     Even 
grand   routines  of   intellectualism  become  intolerable; 
and    so   they  must   be,  if   one    forgets  the  things  for 
which   they   stand,   the   ends    for  which   they  furnish 
means,    the    possibilities    of    collateral    influence   with 
which  God  has  enriched  them.     For  others,  melancholy 
makes  the  drag  of  life.     Intolerable  continuities  of  sad 
thoughts,  haunting  memories,  vexatious  self-condemna- 
tions, half -suppressed  malignities,  —  undying  fires  that 
smoulder  long  in  their  own  ashes,  then   flare  in  the 
rushinsf  wind  of  sudden  recollection,  and  quiet   down 


POWERS  OF  THE  CHRIST-FILLED  LIFE.        29 

again.  These  are  the  drag  of  life.  How  tenderly  I 
speak  of  these  things,  —  the  sin,  the  routine,  the  mel- 
ancholy. How  clearly  I  see  their  power  to  controvert 
those  God-given  instincts  and  enthusiasms  for  living 
which  appear  in  the  child  nature,  and  were  meant 
to  be  our  portion  forever.  The  only  remedy  I  know 
against  them  is  the  Christ-filled  life,  —  the  life  into 
which  day  by  day  Christ  is  coming  in  the  infinite  vi- 
vacity of  power.  Do  you  wonder  that  I  connect  with 
Christ  the  thought  of  infinite  vivacity  ?  Was  he  not, 
you  say,  the  Man  of  Sorrows  ?  Yes,  the  Man  of  Sor- 
rows toward  all  evil ;  the  Man  of  Sorrows  in  his  distress 
over  our  distress ;  the  Man  of  Sorrows  in  his  grief  to  see 
how  life  is  spoiled  for  thousands  by  sin,  by  routine,  and 
by  sadness.  But  oh !  for  such  as  will  receive  him,  the 
Ma7i  of  Joys  !  He  comes  to  give  us  life  —  life  more 
abundant.  He  comes  to  cleanse  us  from  our  sins ;  to 
rebuild  the  nature  defaced  and  broken  by  wrong-doing ; 
"to  restore  unto  us  the  years  that  the  locust  hath 
eaten.'^  He  comes  to  pour  new  meanings  into  the  com- 
mon deeds  of  the  common  day ;  to  exalt  routine  into 
opportunity ;  to  change  our  selfish  narrowness  into  his 
many-sided  sympathy  with  lives.  He  comes  to  dispute 
the  right  of  sorrows  to  claim  all  our  life ;  he  comes  to 
take  our  part  against  the  embittering  memories  that 
pursue  us ;  to  create  for  us  new  interests ;  to  open  be- 
fore us  new  vistas ;  to  call  us  away  from  ourselves  for 
new  service  in  the  time  to  come ;  to  give  us  back  our 
lives  comforted,  calmed,  exalted,  and  renewed  in  him. 
Such  are  some  of  the  powers  of  resistance  in  the 
Christ-filled  life,  acting  for  liberty  against  physical 
pain  and  ill-health,  against  the  tyranny  of  passion, 
against  the  unspiritual  drag  of  sin,  routine,  and  sorrow. 


30  THE  CHRIST-FILLED  LIFE. 

May  I  speak  also  one  earnest  word  concerning  those 
powers  of  attai7iment  which  belong  to  a  Christ-filled  life  ? 
Life  is  not  all  resistance  of  evil.  Good  is  as  real  as  evil. 
And  they  whose  souls  have  been  most  full  of  Christ  have 
seen  most  clearly  the  exceeding  goodness  of  life.  The 
Christ-filled  life  sees  the  best  everywhere,  because  he 
who  is  the  best  fills  the  soul  with  the  ocean  of  a  great 
love.  I  can  but  name  to  you  some  of  those  powers  of 
attainment  that  marked  the  most  Christ-filled  lives  I 
have  ever  known,  and  that  gave  to  their  personality  a 
certain  boundlessness  of  possibility  which  made  them 
often  seem  as  if  they  could  indeed  do  all  things  in  him 
who  so  wonderfully  strengthened  them.  One  felt  in 
such  lives  the  power  of  appreciation,  the  power  of  in- 
sight, the  pow^r  of  influence.  To  the  Christ-filled  life 
belongs  the  power  to  appreciate  other  lives.  A  certain 
sacred  reverence  for  lives  was  a  mark  of  Christ,  and  it 
is  the  mark  of  those  who  are  lifted  to  his  level  on  the 
tide  of  his  indwelling  fulness.  Such  cannot  be  pessi- 
mists nor  satirists  nor  scorners  of  souls.  To  them,  com- 
pelled as  others  are  to  face  the  stark  facts  of  human 
weakness,  a  heavenly  voice  seems  ever  saying,  "  What 
God  hath  cleansed,  that  call  not  thou  common  nor 
unclean." 

To  the  Christ-filled  life  belongs  the  power  of  insight 
into  other  lives.  This  is  more  than  psychological  clever- 
ness ;  it  is  the  mysterious  wisdom  of  love.  "  Come," 
said  the  woman  of  Samaria,  "  see  a  man  which  told  me 
all  that  ever  I  did.  Is  not  this  the  Christ  ?  '^  It  is  the 
Christ,  to  whom  all  hearts  are  open,  all  desires  known, 
and  from  whom  no  secrets  are  hid.  And  in  some  small 
measure  they  who  have  him  within  them  have  his  gift. 
They  read,  by  love's  clairvoyance,  as  he  read,  the  secrets 
of  other  hearts. 


POWERS   OF  THE   CHRIST-FILLED  LIFE.        81 

To  the  Christ-filled  life  belongs  the  power  of  influence 
over  other  lives.  The  smaller  self  of  nature  merges 
in  a  larger  self  of  grace,  whose  vocation  is  personal  in- 
fluence. Life,  once  a  narrow  stream,  broadens  like  the 
sea.  Strong  tides  pour  in  from  fathomless  depths,  and 
cut  new  channels.  Old  landmarks  of  selfishness  disap- 
pear. God  overflows  the  soul,  which,  forgetting  in  its 
joy  past  days  of  shallowness  and  incapacity,  feels  within 
itself  the  current  of  new  possibilities  setting  toward 
other  lives ;  knows,  without  knowing  why,  that  it  ca7i  do 
all  things  in  him  that  strengtheneth. 


n    Thooloqicil   Scmpn,iry-Speef   Liljr.iry 


1    1012  01004  1368 


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